savior
by Nylex
Summary: There was blood on Harry's chin, and Severus wondered if this was what being in love felt like. [Snarry]


**savior**

* * *

There was blood spattered on the crumpled napkin by the bed.

Blankets tossed on the floor.

His breath came in ragged, jerky bursts, and he let his head fall back on the pillow, eyes narrowing. Above him, Harry's back arched and the younger man let out a mewl that petered off into a whine, rutting his hips for friction. The Golden boy, the Ministry's pet, savior of the Wizarding World, the light that shone for the hopeless, threw his head back, cheeks tinting, crying out.

Snape's teeth showed in a snarl. All of the boy's precious _goodness_ and _light_ was being snuffed out by the suffocating darkness and heat of the bedroom. It was humid, and it smelled of sex. Magic, anger, pleasure and scars were burnt into the walls and the mattress, which creaked with every movement. Nothing good ever came from this room.

The boy shuddered and then dropped, his strong knees and thighs unable to support himself any longer. Snape buried his long fingers into Harry's wild, sweaty curls, and then flipped him, pressing him down into the mattress.

Harry gasped.

Snape wanted to fuck him _raw_.

No matter how deeply he was buried inside the boy, he craved more. He wanted to seize that pure, beautiful heart and destroy it, because that heart belonged to _Lily_, not her brat of a son who looked just like James. Wrap his hands around his throat and shake until he _broke_.

And then Not-Lily would open his eyes, those beautiful green eyes, green as _Avada Kedavra_, green as poison—and Snape wouldn't be able to do it. Panic would flare through him, and he would stop, panting, and kiss the boy senseless, kiss and bite every inch that he could reach. Harry would _scream_ with pleasure, and sometimes that would be enough. That would make up for it—that sudden, animalistic urge to free Lily's soul from James's body.

Harry yanked him down for a bruising kiss, momentarily erasing the guilt from Snape's mind. _Protect_ Harry, that's what he was supposed to do. Protect Lily's son.

Snape's hips snapped forward, and he bit Harry's shoulder. As long as Harry was close, he was safe.

"I want to help you," Harry breathed, looking so _young_, so _innocent_ without his glasses. He laced their fingers together and brought Snape even closer, linking his ankles around Snape's waist.

"You can't."

Harry's emerald green eyes fell on the angry black tattoo on his lover's inner wrist. Deep. Full of Dark magic and hatred. Snape wasn't his Mark—it had taken so long for Harry to realize that, that Snape wasn't evil. Snape was brave and ferocious and would never let anything harm him; and he wouldn't let anything harm Snape.

He pressed his fingers against the Mark.

Instantly Snape reacted, jerking his arm away. "Foolish boy," he snapped, somewhat breathlessly. "Don't touch what doesn't belong to you."

_Touch everything else_, Snape thought to himself, _because everything else belongs to you. But not that. That's _mine_._

"It's not a part of you," Harry persisted.

Snape's eyes, so dark and black in the dim light of the room, glared back at him.

"This is not a subject which concerns you, Potter."

Harry sat up, still breathing hard, his face earnest and pleading. "It's not, Severus. Please…just let me…"

His tugged Severus downwards, pressing a kiss directly against the open mouth of the Dark Mark, and Snape's heart clenched painfully in his chest. It felt like a hot coal was being pressed to his skin but he makes no sign, and flinches only slightly when Harry's teeth come down hard on the mark, as if trying to tear it away.

There was blood on Harry's chin, and Severus wondered if this was what being in love felt like.

The Golden Boy bit his own wrist and pressed them together, mingling the stinging, burning ichor together and Snape finally can't take the pain—he shouted in agony and Harry kisses him deeply, bringing him down on the bed once more.

Snape wants to scream _no_, because whatever sickness in his veins is now flowing through Harry's—but Harry doesn't seem to mind. The younger man is murmuring something, a prayer? An incantation? A spell?

There's something cool within him, something soft and sweet. Flowing through his veins.

How long they stay there, in the hot, damp room, smelling of blood and sex, is unknown to either of them.

* * *

"_I smell him in you_," The Dark Lord hisses, stroking Nagini. Snape is unblinking, wand at the ready, standing in front of Harry Potter's corpse. Hogwarts has fallen. The Boy Who Lived is now dead.

"I smell his blood in your veins…is this why I was unable to summon you?" he asks, silky soft and dangerous. Snape stiffens.

"It is."

"You chose poorly, Severus," The Dark Lord muses aloud, sounding almost disappointed. "But I predicted your weakness from the start—such a pity. All that potential…_wasted_."

There's a flash of green—a spell? Her eyes?

_Lily_, Snape thought as he fell.

_Harry_, a voice in his head answered._ It's always been Harry._

* * *

_Sevione = snarky, fluffy, funny. Snarry = dark and scary as fuck. -_**nylex**


End file.
